Mistletoe
by Ryuuza
Summary: It's Christmas at Hogwarts and Hermione's in love...but with who? Three stories, three ships: H/Hr, D/Hr, or R/Hr.
1. Harry

A/N: Pure H/Hr fluff. ^_^

Disclaimer: I don't own any Harry Potter characters…that right goes to J.K. Rowling, lucky person that she is.

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Mistletoe

She sighed, her brown eyes gazing blankly out the window, her fingers tapping listlessly on the sill in front of her.  What was it about the holidays that brought her spirits down as much as it brought them up?  She didn't understand it.  The beautiful white snow blanketing the impressive grounds of Hogwarts in its winter splendor, the cheerfully cackling fire in the scarlet-and-gold draped Gryffindor common room, the merrily twinkling lights, yards of fresh green holly and red ribbons, mistletoe everywhere… The festive decorations left no doubt about the upcoming holiday and though it signified the end of the first term and beginning of the second, and with that, the approaching exams, the fact didn't bother her as much as people seemed to think.  She was content to enjoy the Christmas season, if only she could drag herself out of this blue funk.

"Hey."  The gentle voice was accompanied with a slight nudge.  Hermione blinked and raised her gaze to see her best friend sitting down beside her on the crimson loveseat in front of the common room's one window.  "Got the best seat in the room, I see," he said with a smile.

She couldn't help but return it with one of her own.  "Hey, Harry."

"Hey, yourself."  He handed her a mug of steaming hot chocolate with mini marshmallows melting into the hot confection.  "Holidays just aren't the same without hot chocolate."  He took a sip from his own mug and they sat in a comfortable silence for a while.  Hermione wrapped her hands around her warm mug, her heart warming in much the same way at Harry's quiet thoughtfulness.  He may have been a celebrity of sorts and the best Quidditch player Hogwarts had ever seen, but he was still down-to-earth and friendly.  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and was surprised to find him studying her as well.

"You look kind of depressed, Hermione," he observed.  His green eyes were inquisitive.  "Anything you want to talk about?"

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug and gave him an embarrassed smile.  "I'm not quite sure myself," she said, running her finger around the rim of her mug, "what I'm depressed about, I mean.  Something about the season just gets to me, I suppose."

He was silent for a moment, fiddling with the hem of one of the emerald green sweaters Mrs. Weasely had sent him the last five years and would be sure to send another this year.  Hermione watched his fingers play with the knitted fabric, made with love; its color carefully chosen to match his eyes and bring out his good looks.

"Why didn't you go home for the holidays?"

She jerked her eyes to his.  "I-I don't know," she stammered, shifting uneasily under his searching gaze.  "I just had a lot of things—school things—I had to take care of… Projects, homework…as prefect, you know, I have a lot of responsibilities—" She stopped as he shook his head at her, smiling a little.

"This is me, remember?  You don't have to give excuses."  He gently brushed her loose hair back from her face.  "I just want to know."

Hermione looked at her lap.  "I…" She bit her lip then sighed, shifting and leaning her head on his shoulder the way she had so many times in the past.  "My mom and I," she began in a hesitant voice, "we've grown apart.  She doesn't understand so much of my life.  So many things, little things, like shopping in Diagon Alley, trips to Hogsmeade…even my classes at school."  Her voice caught.  "So many things separate my world from hers…" She broke off and blinked back tears.  Harry silently slid his hand over hers, giving her a supportive squeeze.  "I'm just a little lonely," Hermione whispered, finally acknowledging what had been bothering her since her return to Hogwarts as a 6th-year prefect.  She looked up at her best friend for five and a half years, taking in his unruly black hair, covering a scar so well-known in the wizarding world, emerald eyes, and a mouth almost always quirking up in a ready smile…

"You and Ron were always off talking about Quidditch, or you were at practice, or playing wizard's chess…" She instinctively moved closer to him, comforted by his presence, his familiarity, the fact that he was finally there.  "I was so busy with all my classes, all the homework, all the prefect duties… We hardly ever saw each other, Harry."  Her voice wavered.  "Then Ron and Lavender…I saw even less of him.  And you, Harry, you and Cho were always together.  I felt…left out."  She laughed shakily.  "I just immersed myself more in my studies, telling myself it didn't mater, we were still friends… No one noticed, anyway."

Harry shook his head at her.  "Oh Hermione," he said, looking pained.  "You've got it all wrong.  Me and Ron, we…we thought _you_ didn't need us.  I mean, you were prefect.  You were at the top of our class.  You were always so busy…you never even came out to my Quidditch practices anymore," he stated in a hurt voice. 

"I was always there at the matches," Hermione replied fiercely, her eyes flashing golden-brown fire.  "I'd never miss a match no matter how busy I was."

He brightened at that and then sighed.  "We've been idiots, haven't we?  Avoiding each other, thinking…" Shaking his head, he squeezed her hand and smiled.  "I'm just glad we're back."

She returned his smile, impossible as it was for her to resist it.  "Me, too."  She snuggled up against him, their hand still linked, both nestled in the warm loveseat with their mugs of hot chocolate and their best friend at their side.  Hermione was happy, her heart full of love and contentment, no long yearning for that something—for her friends, for Harry—and she was pleased to sit quietly, ensconced in silence, comfortable and secure, satisfied and at peace with the world.  Then Harry, after a lengthy and thorough examination of every Christmas decoration decking the Gryffindor common room, said so softly Hermione wasn't sure she'd heard him right, "Did you know that me and Cho broke up?"

Eyes widening, she sat up and stared at him in surprise.  "You _did_?  Why?  You were so happy together!"

"I wanted to be fair to her." He blinked owlishly behind his glasses.  "She's a beautiful person, inside and out."  His gaze was now firmly fixed to the carpeting beneath his feet.  "She deserved a guy who loved her completely…one who hadn't already fallen in love with someone else."  He glanced up.

Hermione was speechless.  What was he saying?  And why was he looking at her like that—?  Heart pounding wildly, she told herself not to get her hopes up.  "Harry," she whispered just as he murmured, "Hermione," and reached up gently to cup her face.

"Hermione—I—" His eyes searched hers, looking for something, a sign perhaps.  He must have found it for the next thing she knew, he was kissing her, softly, sweetly, just a mere brush of the lips that sent her pulse racing madly.  When he drew back, she saw the red in his cheeks.

"Harry?" she whispered again, unconsciously setting her mug on the sill.  Her other hand, freed from his clasp when he'd stroked her cheek, reached instinctively for him.

"I love you, Hermione," he said fiercely, capturing her hand with his.  "I can't tell you when I fell in love with you—by the time I realized it, I was already gone.  It's just you…everything about you.  I can't help it."  He drew her to him and stared down into her face, his face creased with nervousness.  "Will you have me?" he asked softly.

Unbidden, tears rose to Hermione's eyes.  Never had she— Not even in her wildest— He'd been with Cho…she hadn't dared to hope.  But it seemed—could it be?—that he felt the same way?

"I love you, Harry."

All of a sudden, she was in his arms and a mug of half-drunken hot chocolate found its way to the floor, unnoticed as it spilled across the carpet, leaving a stain to mark a memory. The two entangled on the loveseat above were occupied in making the memory with tears and hugs and whispers of "I love you" and "I love you, too" and "Why didn't you tell me?"  Secluded away in their private alcove by the window, their emotional scene went unnoticed by all, friends and housemates who had known all along and would be loudly proclaiming it the next day when they found out their predictions had finally come true.

Harry was grinning when the girl in his arms pointed to the mistletoe dangling above their heads, secured to the window that opened to a wonderland of white.  Blissfully ignoring the fairyland outside, Harry obligingly took Hermione in his arms and kissed her until they were both sure that this Christmas, though miles away from any relatives, they were truly at home.

A little ways away, a blonde girl elbowed the redheaded boy next to her.  "That mistletoe wasn't there a minute ago was it?" she hissed, her tone accusing but the dimpled smile and dancing blue eyes giving away her glee.

Ron laughed and wrapped his arm around Lavender.  "Nope," he said cheerfully.  With a tender look, he kissed her forehead.  "Merry Christmas, love."

~FiN~

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A/N: Like? Review!


	2. Draco

A/N: D/Hr all the way! ^_^

Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Harry Potter.  Wish I did…but I don't.  J.K. Rowling does.

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Mistletoe

The brisk wind swept Hermione's hair off her face, whipping her robes around her slim body, which was clad in a bright holiday sweater, and seeping a chill into her skin.  She sat alone on the raised stands surrounding the Quidditch field, huddled against the cold.  Her face was lifted, her brown eyes following the lone figure on the broomstick flying about the field.  The scarlet-and-gold scarf wrapped around her neck and the green Quidditch robes draped over the lean shoulders of the figure perched atop his _Firebolt X_ told a story that even words found difficult to convey.

After close to three-quarters of an hour of concentrated practice, the figure dipped his broom downwards and zoomed towards the brown-haired girl waiting for him in the stands.  He pulled up level to the railing and cocked a brow at her.

"You didn't have to wait for me, you know."

She shrugged and smiled at him.  "It's fine.  I got some Arithmancy homework done."  She held up the two and a half feet long parchment as evidence.

"Are you cold?" he asked solicitously.

"No."  She stood and gathered her things, then gave him an expectant look.  "Walk with me."

He swung one leg over the handle, sliding off the broom to plant his feet firmly on the stands.  Grasping his _Firebolt X_ in one hand, he flashed her a grin and the two walked side-by-side down the steps.  As they headed towards the castle that housed the various classes of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione couldn't help but cast a sidelong glance at the boy next to her, speculating on how many things had changed in the past year and a half.

A sixteen-year-old like herself, Draco had been her, Ron, and Harry's clear enemy since their first year.  That had all changed last year, however, when Draco had made a very public, very fierce, and extremely precarious denouncement of the supporters of the Dark Lord, especially the Death Eaters.  While the students of Hogwarts had stared open-mouthed in shock, Dumbledore had taken in the young Malfoy, shaking with both fear and rage after his speech, into his office for a long discussion.  When he had been let out, Hermione had noticed a marked difference in his attitude, which he explained had been purely a front in face of Lucius' wrath a few months later after a hesitant friendship had been formed.

Misunderstood.  That's what he'd been.  Hermione knew the feeling all too well.  The stereotypes, the blatant typecasting, all based on backgrounds, families, parents' choices…things beyond personal control.  She knew what it was like to be labeled a know-it-all Mudblood; he knew what it was like to be labeled a future Death Eater.  Her hunger for knowledge and plain looks didn't help; his being a Slytherin and in constant company of fellow sons of Dark Lord supporters didn't either.  In the light of his new standing, they'd forged a tentative friendship that had grown stronger as they'd discovered more and more things in common.

Harry and Ron…they hadn't understood at first.  They'd been afraid, suspicious, and wary.  But Hermione had gotten her way.  She could be stubborn when circumstances called for it and she had been stubborn about giving up a relationship that had given her a new perspective on life, a relationship with a person who understood her as much, if not more, than her two best friends.  All four of them knew about stereotypes.  And all four of them learned to give each other a chance.  Time had helped suspicion wan and trust blossom and Hermione, to the extreme envy of half the population at Hogwarts [the female half], was now the best friend of three of the most sought-after guys in school.

Draco, who was now under the protection of Professor Dumbledore as much as the Boy Who Lived, was grateful for his newfound friends.  It had taken time before he had grown accustomed to people who didn't expect him to be someone he wasn't, to live up to an image he didn't really want to uphold, but now that he had, he couldn't imagine acting any other way.  Sure, he was still the "Slytherin bad boy" but it no longer denoted a sense of evil and for that he was thankful.

"Are you going home for the holidays?" he asked Hermione, drawing himself out of his thoughts.

She shook her head.  "No."  She looked at him and continued, "My parents are going to on a business trip.  Some conference."

Though he heard her words, her cinnamon eyes told him the real story.  She was staying for him—him and Harry, that is.  Neither would be returning home for Christmas, Harry uneager to see the Dursleys again, still fervently hoping for Sirius' name to be cleared and officially declared his guardian, and Draco even less thrilled to go home to a furious Lucius.

"Is Ron staying?"

Hermione shrugged.  "I don't know.  He hasn't said anything."

Privately, Draco thought the gangly redhead would.  He couldn't picture the Weasely missing any opportunity to be around Hermione, whom he obviously worshipped.  At least it was obvious to Draco—Hermione seemed fairly clueless and he was content to leave her that way.

The two made their way into the castle silently.  In an unspoken agreement, he escorted her to the Gryffindor tower, where the picture of the Fat Lady hung.  It was a ritual they'd performed many times, early Saturday mornings, while most of Hogwarts still lay peacefully asleep.  Now they would each return to their own common rooms just in time for their sleepy friends to slowly straggle out of bed for breakfast.

As they walked, they passed the holiday decorations lending a festive air to the halls.  Yards of green and red and white and gold had strung themselves to every torch, every chandelier, and candles had appeared in every window.  Mistletoe was floating around in the most unsuspecting of places and the occasional choir of ghosts could be heard singing Christmas carols.  Candy canes were served with every meal, although some were the trick Cartwheeling Canes that would send the eater careening around the Great Hall.  It made for some entertainment, anyhow.

Passing Professor Vector's classroom where she had Arithmancy with Draco, Hermione glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.  Her gaze trailed across his grey eyes, still mysterious but far less cold once she'd gotten to know him, his pale skin that refused to tan, the light blonde hair that hung, tousled, around his face… He was, she admitted to herself, one of the best-looking guys at Hogwarts.  Lavender and Parvati's giggling debates over their personal lists of cute guys had always included Draco and Hermione saw why.  He was tall and lean, his active participation in Quidditch toning his body, and his lazy smile had a way of closing out the rest of the world, a quality few girls could resist.

"No wonder half the girls at Hogwarts are in love with you," she muttered, shifting her books from one arm to the other.

"Pardon?"  He raised an eyebrow.

She blushed and focused on climbing the stairs that led to the Fat Lady.  She hopped over one that, if stepped on, gave the stepper a feeling of plunging their foot in a bucket of ice –cold water.  "Er, I just meant…"

"I see."  He sounded amused.  "You think I'm sexy."

Her eyes flew to meet his.  "You wish!" she exclaimed.

He remained unflustered.  "You know you do," he teased, a corner of his mouth drawing up into a quick smile.  "You can't resist me…"  He laughed as she harrumphed and turned, stalking away.  Lazily, he swung a leg over his_ Firebolt X_ and trailed after her.

"Draco!"  She emitted a startled sound as she stopped in front of the Fat Lady, who'd tucked a sprig of mistletoe in her hair in honor of the season, and turned to face him.  "You know riding broomsticks inside the school is against the rules."

"Go ahead…take away the points.  I'll just give them back."  He grinned at her annoyed look.  She was itching to take the points away from Slytherin house, he knew, because friends or not, there was still a rivalry for the House Cup, and she did love exercising her rights as Gryffindor prefect.  Even though he, as prefect for Slytherin, could reinstate them instantly. 

"Oh sod it," she sighed.  "Just get off."

He obliged and dismounted.  "You're so fun to tease," he said, smiling down at her.

"I'm glad you find me amusing," she replied, her expression a little annoyed.

His eyes glittered.  "Amusing," he echoed, "and beautiful."  As her eyes widened, he leaned down swiftly and pressed a hot, hard kiss to her lips.  She drew back instinctively but after a moment, melted into the embrace.  When he finally pulled away, his gaze roved over her closed eyes and dreamy expression.  Berating himself for crossing the line of friendship, and one of his most valued friendships at that, Draco shook his head and whispered, "Happy Christmas."  Her eyes flew open and he gestured at the mistletoe in the Fat Lady's hair.  He swallowed.

"See you later, Hermione."

She watched him walk away, heading for the Slytherin dungeons.  What had that been all about?  Her fingers touched her lips briefly as she recalled the tingly warmth that had washed over her when he'd kissed her.  What did it mean?  Her reaction—his kiss— A smile crossed her face.

"I love him," she whispered to herself.  She laughed.  "I love Draco Malfoy."  It had been building up for the past year… She'd been drawn to him since the beginning and circumstances had finally given her a chance to become close to him, to know him, and now…now, the inevitable had happened.  She'd fallen in love.  Hermione shook her head, picturing Harry and Ron's reactions.  That would be a sight.

"Are you going to stand there all day talking to yourself?" the Fat Lady asked without malice, her round face curious as she peered down at the Gryffindor girl in front of her.

Hermione's eyes flicked to the mistletoe in the Fat Lady's hair.  "It's a conspiracy, isn't it?" she asked, grinning.  "You're on your matchmaking spree again, aren't you?"

The Fat Lady smiled a Mona Lisa smile.  "Password?" she asked primly.

"Mistletoe."

The portrait swung open and Hermione climbed into the Gryffindor common room to find her best friends.

~FiN~

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A/N: Review!  And the next installment, a R/Hr ship will come…soon?  Eventually.  lolz Sometime still in the Christmas season, I promise.


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